


a boon of the king

by dottore_polidori



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Cannibalism, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Mutilation, magical thinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-06-06 07:49:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15190145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dottore_polidori/pseuds/dottore_polidori
Summary: Ask, and you shall receive.





	a boon of the king

Best is the red iron richness of his liver, the fattiest portion to be had of this half-eaten, frost-found corpse.

The Lieutenant’s face does not twist in disgust, not now that he scrapes the edge of his bone-handled knife to the surface of his skull, and not when he was dying, neither. He took his time, and Hickey gave it, when it would have been just as well to pinch his nose and be done with it — no, the man had to see, to whom he was bequeathing the last dregs of his life.

John Irving, who despised him as a roach stuck to his boot-heel, unworthy of God’s kingdom (that is another name for love) — who severed him from Billy boy by making him ashamed of his nature’s dictates — John Irving now serves him. Hickey’s life has been doubled — he is himself, and the one consumed, who knows not to protest but to obey, the mindless happy substance animating his limbs and his spirit with a new strength.

His mind is clear. It was not Irving’s god that offered him up to Hickey on this altar of broken rock. There was another that chose him, that gave him the fool Hodgson for a companion on this mission. This one who would betray his fellows, having become his man. One that would lie for him, and send the others to the slaughter for a perceived slight.

His teeth are sharp, but the parts are tough chewing and taste nothing to be praised. Irving’s cock and balls spent a lifetime unused, if truly were he so pious. This humiliates him in death, the man that he hates. That he hated, and who is now a part of him indivisible. He fancies John Irving seeing through his eyes, marveling at his attentions. How he nearly chokes on his rubbery meat. Is this how you thought to see me swallow?

He doesn’t recall how he lost his faith, but now he considers. The dead Christ has no power here, where his son died friendless. He will convene with the god of the ice cap, who blessed him with this favour.


End file.
